


1992 A Fellow In The Night

by Spot_On60



Series: Black Ice [7]
Category: Dark Shadows (1966)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:38:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4772030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spot_On60/pseuds/Spot_On60
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good help is hard to find, but Barnabas tends to score the ones who really pull through when it matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1992 A Fellow In The Night

 

**1992 A Fellow in the Night**

It was early summer of 1990 and Gary couldn’t remember how he got to this place. One minute he was walking out of the bar to his knucklehead the next he was rubbing his sore neck in what looked like the kitchen of an old house. The room was lit with candelabras and looked straight out of one of those 1930’s black and white horror movies. Some middle-aged fucker was asking if he slept well, asked if he needed an aspirin. He was explaining how he was the master of the house and how Gary was the new servant, telling Gary what his duties would be. Among other things he would be responsible for dusting and cleaning, shopping, general maintenance, guarding the house and assisting some dude named Willie with any projects he may be working on.

Gary asked this pansy-assed bastard who he thought he was dealing with. He wasn’t nobody's bitch. Barnabas warned him about the use of such language in the house but would let it slide this time. He continued by saying Gary wouldn’t want to suffer the punishment of disobeying the rules nor of insolence.

Gary had had enough. He was leaving. And he decided he would hammer this guy on his way out.

“Do not attempt it, Gary.”

“Attempt what? I don’t attempt anything. I finish what I start.”

“Do not attempt to ‘hammer’ me as you so succinctly put it. You will lose.” Barnabas thought it would be best to move down the intelligence ladder with this wretch. Deal with him on his own base level, Might is Right.

Didn't think he said it out loud, but it didn’t matter, at six foot and two hundred sixty pounds Gary had never lost a one-on-one and he wasn’t about to start now with this skinny prick. He lifted himself and expanded his girth by moving his arms slightly out to the sides. Although the same height, the biker seemed to overshadow the man who stood between him and the door. He was walking out the door and would drop this guy on the way.

He never saw it. With one backhand Barnabas sent him to the other side of the room, hitting the wall sideways and flat against his back before sliding to the floor. It was only a few seconds before he was rising back to his feet, ready for another round. He was bent at the waist preparing to charge. Barnabas was impressed but not particularly pleased with his choice. He wouldn’t forgive him his next attack. The man was now coming at him full force, bent over, head down, eyes up, aiming for the vampire’s waist.

Barnabas simply stepped out of the way while at the same time giving this hulk a shove to the side. Gary rammed the doorway with the force of a steam engine, spinning him so that he landed mostly in the back room. Barnabas wanted him in the kitchen. If there was still fight left in him he wanted the man out of the back room. Willie had labored too hard to have any part of it damaged by this delinquent. He took him by the hand to pull him. The tug resulted in a grunt escaping from Gary.

Barnabas was annoyed. “Are you injured?”

“Fuck off!” was his reply.

He didn’t have the time for this. Willie needed his attention and Barnabas wasn’t interested in nursing this idiot. If the man was badly injured he would need to be disposed of and Barnabas would need to find another.

Crouching beside him he grabbed him by the hair on the top of his head and looked directly in his eyes. Gary moved to knock away Barnabas' hand.

 _Don’t._ Barnabas warned.

Gary had no defense for this, it took the vampire little effort to subdue him with a look alone. No, he had none of Willie’s strength. He dropped his hand.

_Are you badly injured?_

“I don’t know.”

“Give me your hand.” Barnabas again took his hand, but this time laid his other on the shoulder that hit the door frame. He carefully moved Gary’s arm forward. As Gary hissed Barnabas could feel a broken bone shifting, his clavicle no doubt.

Looking back in his eyes, “Gary, I’m going to make this feel better for you. Hold still.” Barnabas held both sides of his head in his hands, smiled reassuringly, and snapped his neck.

Returning a second time from the bar, Mike was a little more cooperative. Between Barnabas’ powers of persuasion and Gary’s corpse in the doorway, Mike fell into line with little discussion. As large as Gary, Mike easily had twice the intelligence of his short-lived predecessor. He would do well.

He was ensconced in one of the guest rooms in the front of the house. Willie’s accident had precluded any of the servant rooms but his own being completed. Barnabas told him there would be a list of chores waiting for him in the kitchen when he woke. He suggested it would be in his best interest to go to bed and not consider leaving. He closed the door and made his way to Willie’s room.

The flame in Willie’s courting candle had gone out. Still injured he was unable to reach the matches and a new candle. He had the start of mild panic in his eyes as Barnabas approached. “It’s alright Willie, I’ll light it for you.” Willie only stared.

With the candle lit Barnabas sat in the chair by the fireplace. He told Willie of Mike, the new servant. His situation as a lawless biker with no family connections eased Willie’s concern over anyone looking for him or anyone he may have attachments to. He took up the book from the table and began to read aloud. Questioning Willie about the first word unfamiliar to him he found him fast asleep. Barnabas wished him a goodnight and went downstairs to deal with the disposal of Gary.

 

******************

  
And so it began, a new phase in the Old House.

 

Mike took to his new position with little effort on the vampire’s part. He was easily manipulated. Such a difference there was between the malleable Mike and Willie with all his defenses. Mike was not without a certain amount of rebellion, but he was usually dissuaded with a look or merely a hard slap; although, there were a couple of occasions warranting more serious action.

Willie for his part was improving daily. He was now strong enough to sit with Barnabas during the evenings in the library. They spent many a quiet night together, each with their reading. Barnabas often rested his book in his lap and gazed on the man he so trusted and cared for. Willie usually had his shoes off and sat in the extra wide chair sideways with his feet buried deep between the seat cushion and the arm. Barnabas would think of how he truly loved him. Without a word spoken, Willie responded by turning his head and adding a smile. Barnabas would take him in, watching the firelight from candles dancing through his hair and be thankful for every moment.

Barnabas knew as Willie regained his strength he wanted to have Barnabas take him and for them to resume their affair. He too longed to feel the smooth skin of Willie’s back against his hands, the warmth of his body and the whisper of his breath. Although, he didn’t want to do anything that may impede or harm Willie’s recovery. Just looking at him, he could see he was still so fragile, so beaten and bruised. Yet Willie was anxious.

“Give it time Willie.”

_We have plenty of time, don't we?_

 

Barnabas provided the new manservant with enough funds to furnish himself with toiletries and two weeks worth of appropriate clothing. Mike's leather jacket and sleeveless denim battle jacket sporting his club's colors were quickly replaced by neat button down collars and polo shirts. The jeans with more holes than fabric were exchanged for properly fitted black jeans and khakis. His full size billfold complete with chain was detached from the jeans destined for the rag pile and retired to a drawer. Barnabas also sent him for a haircut and shave.

At first Barnabas denied him permission to retrieve his bike, but apparently Willie had rallied for him and he was permitted to bring it to the Old House and park it in the carport. He would, however, use Willie's truck for any of his errands. He had no idea why when Barnabas dropped him off at the bike he didn't get on it and go, go anywhere but the Collins estate. No, he drove it directly to the Old House.

Though he didn't know it, compared to Ben and Willie, Mike had it easy. He really only needed to clean the house, answer a phone that never rang and collect the mail. When Barnabas added chores to the list, the young man would whine like a spoiled child. The vampire wanted to replace him. Willie stressed to him the need for patience with the help.

"I would rather you take care of things," the vampire would say. "I want things the way they were."

Willie'd reply simply, "I know."

And Barnabas felt he really did know.

 

Mike wasn’t sure why he had said it other than he was just being pissy about having to wash extra sheets, but it was out of his mouth and Barnabas was furious. He was grabbed by the back of his neck and forced to the kitchen. The vampire had pulled his belt from the loops and had wrapped it around his hand? Mike said there was no way he would drop his pants and bend over the table. After his second refusal he was set upon. Barnabas had his pants and briefs to the floor and was holding him facedown to the table. He couldn’t help but cry out when the first lash hit him across the back of his thighs. He struggled to get loose from the hand splayed across his lower back. _What kind of crazy bastard does this?_

He was struck at least another half dozen times before he heard the vampire say, “He’s threatened to expose us.” The hand holding him lifted from his back. Mike looked up as Barnabas said, “You can thank Willie for this reprieve......Thank him!”

“Thank you, Willie," he said through his tears in a broken voice. And he was left alone in the kitchen wondering what the fuck just happened. _Was he really going to beat the shit out of me with a belt?_

While collecting sheets from unused bedrooms Mike wondered how Willie had become favored, but of course, wouldn't dare ask. Willie had been there for twenty some odd years. He didn't think he'd make it that long, doubtful he'd make it past another six months. Besides, he'd like to see how the revered Willie would take the beating he just received. _He wouldn't, that's how_. _Not likely_. It also wasn't likely Willie was able to keep up with the house. Just the damned candles took an hour. To do what Barnabas expected would take someone working their ass off for twelve hours a day or more. He had heard in town how Loomis had been a troublemaker when he first arrived, but all the young man really needed was a steady job and some guidance. Yeah, he would find out how Willie got off so easy.

The vampire made him nervous as hell. Not only was he, seemed strange to even say, a vampire, he was an insane and paranoid vampire. He heard things and saw people who weren't there. He was distant and detached. When he rose at night, he barely said a word and was out the door. His desire to make Willie comfortable and meet his needs was an obsession. It seemed besides having someone watching the house during the day he didn't give a damn what was going on in it, well except for the ghosts he saw all around. Then suddenly he would think of something that needed to be done, _had_ to be done and insist on its immediate completion. Other times it was as though he would look for some task for Mike just to give him a task, like washing these damn sheets.

Mike wanted nothing more than to get on his bike and leave, but he couldn't make himself do it. He couldn't explain it. He didn't know how he could want something so badly yet not be able to work up enough desire to propel himself to take action. Even as he drove the truck into town to the grocery store, he could not compel himself to go anywhere but the store and back

 

The master of the house lived in shadows. His life lost the clarity it once had. The darkness within him, now a beast turned on himself, was foremost in his diseased brain. Barnabas spent less and less time minding his accounts. Though his insatiable need for receipts to balance his records to the penny remained intact he no longer balanced the registers. It just didn't seem as pressing anymore. It had been a year since he had read any of the auction catalogs piling up on the desk. He seemed to be losing interest in most things except for seeing to Willie. The gardens were losing their luster and the only cleared path led to the bench Willie had given to him as a gift. He now seldom walked the halls of the Old House at night admiring it's beauty and history. It didn't matter the servant quarters weren't being tended to, hadn't been touched since before the accident. He knew when Willie was well again he would take care of it. When he was up to it he would resume work there. Barnabas knew he would, because Willie took pride in his work and a job well done. Not the scraping by with the minimum he had come to expect from the new servant.

The new guy, as Willie referred to him to the vampire even two years after he became part of the household, had never known Barnabas to go out on a date and was surprised to hear he had had an active social life with several ladies on rotation. The ladies no longer interested him. There was the occasional visitor, one of his cousins or very rarely the former governess from Collinwood, but otherwise socially he had cocooned himself with the occupants of the Old House. Just himself, Willie and the new guy.

By summer of '92 Willie had become his fellow in the night and they spent little time at home. They would meet after each had fed. Walking the docks and streets of Collinsport they spent hours talking. Sometimes they would venture to another town, going as far as Portsmouth. Often they would return to the estate early to spend the night walking along the beach or watching the ocean from the cliff. Anywhere by water was where Willie liked best. Though on occasion the night would be spent in Willie’s room talking until just before dawn. And when they retired Willie would lay atop Barnabas, who would cover him with his pea coat and wrap his arms around him, Willie's head on his shoulder as they slipped into unconsciousness.

 

Fall had descended on the state of Maine. There was a chill to the air and the famous New England foliage was in its full blazing glory. With the colors more suited to daytime the aroma of the fallen leaves took over the night. Barnabas thought he could smell their earthy dampness as he awoke. This evening, as with all twilights, when he roused from his daytime slumber his mind was clear once again, if only for a little while. This was when he clutched the empty pea coat, taking in its scent, and his crushing grief overthrew him. Nightly he would remember his paranoia and hallucinations would never again be soothed away by a knowing hand or gentle phrase of reassurance. Every evening he relived his walk to the mausoleum with Willie’s ashes. Taking a bit of comfort in knowing Willie was where he'd want to be, with Jason. Over and over he pictured Willie on the hospital gurney, his beautiful face marred and broken with such trauma and the aroma of blood thick in the air. He was racked with guilt at the thought of Willie dying before he could reach him, never knowing if he could have saved him. A nurse had told him before he passed she heard Willie quietly speak to Barnabas, then as if he heard an answer, smiled and became calm. Barnabas knew he _had_ heard an answer.

The weight of his loss was too much to bear during his waking hours. Seeking relief he yearned for the fantasy that would become his reality as the night unfolded. The fantasy that convinced him Willie was still there with him, that their plans would come to pass. That he would hold him in his arms again, burying his nose in Willie's hair taking in his scent. That Willie would tuck his hands between them, rolling his shoulders into Barnabas' chest to be gathered and soothed, all the while soothing the vampire himself. That he would feel the sweet release and hear the humming only Willie could bring out in him. That Willie was there for him. That everything would be alright.

He would run through all of these bits and pieces as though they were a play to be performed each night. However, as this evening's production played out, there would be an additional act. He had made the decision, tonight he'd order Mike to destroy him.

Upon rising Barnabas sat Mike down giving him his instructions, then stepped into the night. After feeding he walked through the streets of the village, toward the docks.There was a scent to Collinsport that was the same as it had been in his youth. He thought it came from the unchanging sea. It could only be the sea. Most everything else had changed around him. It was disconcerting and so difficult for him to maneuver. He was overwhelmed at the thought of continuing to face it alone. Willie had guided him through this web of modern living, had been his safety net. He had once told Willie he couldn't survive without him. He made an effort, but was unable to do it.

Thinking of Willie he recalled their phone call the night before he died, a favorite place for his mind to retreat. Willie had been in Boston. They spoke of the items Willie had acquired, mostly Shaker pieces for his new project, the restoration of the servant quarters, along with an oil painting desired by Barnabas. Those items had been delivered and now sat collecting dust. Barnabas had asked if he had a date. He had, but only for dinner. He hadn’t been up for anything more. Barnabas' evening had been the same. Willie told him he had time to think about what Barnabas said about a new person and how things were when the two of them began. In a weird way, it made sense to him and he understood. He also knew they were both very different people now. They had both matured and learned to understand one another. He was looking forward to getting home and starting a new chapter. And unless Branabas had more revelations for him to think over, he said laughing, he felt good about the two of them. As they wound down Barnabas marveled at how he could hear the smile on Willie’s face through the telephone lines over two hundred miles away. Willie finished, taking Barnabas by surprise and unguarded, by saying, “Okay, I’ll see ya tomorrow.” And charmingly, without any hesitation, “Love you, Barnabas. Goodnight.”

 

Mike had been at a loss. Barnabas was insane and getting worse. He had been ordered more times than he could remember to search the grounds for the vampire’s victims. Never finding anyone Barnabas would lash out at him, shouting he was useless and he would be better off sending Mike the way of Gary and starting anew. Sometimes he didn't recognize Mike and would ask who he was and what he was doing in the house. Several times he had threatened to kill him until Willie came to put a hand on his arm to remind him who Mike was. He sometimes wished Willie was still alive. Apparently the vampire spiraled after his death. That governess Vicki had said Willie was good for Barnabas, kept him grounded.

Though Barnabas claimed his victims often followed him home it wasn’t possible as he was now killing them all. There was a manhunt underway for the killer who, like back in the ‘60s, was killing people and draining their blood. The only witness they had was a dock worker who had seen a BMW driving away from the area where a victim, a young Irish immigrant, had been found in the town of Belfast, north of Collinsport. Barnabas’ range was getting wider and the death toll was climbing as his hallucinations increased. 

How many times had Mike walked by the library or parlor at night only to hear the vampire having a one-sided conversation? How many times had the vampire referred to Willie in his instructions or actually turned to listen to Willie's silent input? It was certain Barnabas was haunted by the previous caretaker who had been killed in an accident over two years before.

He wasn't at first aware Barnabas and Willie had been lovers. Nor was he aware of the hold this dead man had over Barnabas. During a hissy fit act of rebellion he had blurted out that Willie was probably his fuck toy. Barnabas didn’t take it as an insult to himself as it was intended and bad enough, but as an insult to Willie, which was far worse. When the vampire began the beating he looked up to the invisible Willie as he had the time before. It seemed Willie wasn’t in the mood for dispensation and had taken offense as well. From what Barnabas spat out at Mike as he all but flayed him, Willie had nodded in agreement and walked out the back door. It had been days before he could do anything more than crawl from his room to the bathroom and back.

Insane, grief stricken or both, it didn't matter. He had no sympathy for the creature. The world would be a better place without this crazy bastard roaming loose in it.

 

Mike had never killed anyone. Sure, he’d messed a few people up and pretty badly too, but never actually killed anyone. Even so, he knew he wouldn’t have any hesitation in two days. Not only would he have his freedom after doing away with the vampire and burying him in the pre-dug grave, he would also have one and a quarter million dollars. All Mike had to do then was sit tight, be sure he was seen frequently in town, making sure he had an alibi, then wait to be informed of his missing boss. After a suitable amount of time he could vanish from New England to start a new life.

Barnabas had already started laying the groundwork by calling his cousin to say he was going to Boston. While there his car would be found abandoned and set afire along Waveway Wall in Winthrop. He had left a stake and mallet on the bottom basement stair for his servant's use. The coffin was to be smashed and burned. Barnabas had told Mike the success of his getting away lay in his not running and keeping his mouth shut for at least a year before leaving the area.

Mike saw this as a win-win. He would be free and Barnabas would be back with Willie. And make no mistake, Mike now firmly believed Barnabas and Willie would be together again. Recently and on more than one occasion he had heard through the door of Willie’s room Barnabas talking with his lover. Not a one-sided conversation like in the library but two men talking in subdued tones. Barnabas was easy to pick out with his rich elegant accent, but the other was less mellow and with a hint of New York added in. And there was the night he rushed to tell Barnabas there was someone on the back lawn, a blond haired man in one of those navy blue seaman's jackets. Barnabas had called him an idiot and said it was only Willie. No, this was going to be best for all concerned and he had no apprehensions about carrying out his part.

 

"Hey Barnabas." Willie was walking toward him, hands in pockets, slim legs striding out from under his pea coat.

Barnabas had left the docks and found himself on the north end of town looking up at the façade of the Collinsport Public Library. Willie joined him there on the sidewalk. 

"I can't manage without you."

"I know, Barnabas." 

And Barnabas felt he really did know.

“I miss you, my spark.”

“Yeah?” This brought a smile. "I like that," he said in all sincerity.

Barnabas smiled too, remembering a talk much like this they had several years before. He was intent on the old brick building, the perpetual weight of loneliness and loss he carried pressing down on him.

Giving the sidewalk a kick, Willie shoved one hand deeper into his pocket and ran the other through his hair.  He was looking off in the distance, “I miss you too." Then added, "It’s been awhile, huh Barnabas?”

“Yes, but it won’t be much longer.” 

The vampire sighed.

_Willie._

 

 

 _All stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you._  
Ernest Hemingway

 

 


End file.
